Finding A Friend
by FrozenPanda97
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson met through Mike Stamford. What they don't know is that everyone teamed together to find someone who can cope with Sherlock Holmes.
1. Planning

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock_

Mike Stamford, Lestrade, Donavon, Anderson, Molly and Mycroft, Mycroft's parents and Mrs Hudson were all sitting around a table in a bar Sherlock would never ever dream of entering. Which was a good thing as they were there to talk about him.

"So, we are here to talk about getting Sherlock a friend?" asked Molly, nursing her drink.

"Yes, my son is so lonely, he has trouble finding friends, and he need a specific one. I wonder where one could be" sighed Mrs Holmes.

"Sherlock needs someone who loves adventure" said Mike, he grabbed his notepad and pen from his briefcase and wrote that down.

"He needs someone whose patient" said Mrs Holmes.

"He needs someone who doesn't cringe at dead bodies" said Molly.

"He needs someone who is loyal" said Mycroft.

"He needs someone who will ask for help when needs it, and who he'll insult but can take it" said Anderson, thinking of all the times that he had wanted to punch Sherlock because he refused to explain his deductions.

"He'll need someone smart" said Lestrade.

"He just needs someone" said Sally, wondering why she was here if it was about the freak.

"Okay, we need to give each other our numbers so we can text when we have discovered someone so we can all text them" said Mr Holmes.

They did this and left.

Not knowing that in a month, Doctor John Watson will be invalided home from the war.


	2. Mike

Mike Stamford was talking to Sherlock as the consulting detective worked in his lab.

"So, found a new place yet?" Mike asked, knowing that Sherlock had to move again.

"Yes, but the rent will be a problem" said Sherlock, still observing something in his microscope.

"Why not find a flatmate then?" asked Mike.

"Who would want to share with me?" asked Sherlock. Mike sighed and left.

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"John! John Watson!" Mike called as he sat and had his lunch in the park, and saw one of his old friends from medical school, "Stamford, Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together."

"Yes, sorry, yes, Mike, hello" said John, and he shook Mike's hand. Mike stared at John. Could it be...?

"Yes, I know, I got fat" joked Mike, hoping to get John in for a conversation.

"No, no" said John, still trying to save peoples feelings.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?" Mike was genuinely curious, John always wanted to go and heal in the wars, and even became a solider so that he could help.

"I got shot" said John. Somehow, Mike got the man to sit down and have a coffee.

"Are you still at Barts then?" asked John after taking a sip.

"Teaching now, yeah, bright young things like we used to be. God, I hate them. What about you, just staying in town till you get yourself sorted?" Mike asked. If John needed a flatmate, it would have to be destiny!

"I can't afford London on an Army pension" stated John.

"Couldn't bear to be anywhere else," said Mike, "that's not the John Watson I know."

"I'm not the John Watson."

"Couldn't Harry help?" asked Mike, remembered John's alcoholic sister.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen" scoffed John. Now was his chance.

"I don't know, get a flatshare or something?" Mike suggested.

"Who'd want me for a flatmate?" asked John. Mike was happy, this was perfect.

"What?" asked John, looking at his old friend in confusion.

"You're the second person to say that to me today" said Mike.

"Who was the first?" asked John, staring at Mike.

"A man who works with the police. We were talking this morning, and mentioned that he needed someone to help pay the rent" said Mike.

"Can I meet him?" asked John.

"Yeah, he should still there" said Mike. He stood up, waited for John and allowed the man to lead the way to Barts. Mike got out his phone and sent a text.

THINK I'VE FOUND OUR MAN


	3. Molly

As Molly waited for the water to boil, she felt her phone go off, and she pulled it off the table where she had put it and she looked at the message from Mike.

THINK I'VE FOUND OUR MAN

Molly frowned. It can't be that easy. Sighing, she lifted the mug of coffee and made her way upstairs to the lab where Sherlock Holmes worked.

She stopped at the door to listen in.

"This is an old friend of mine, John Watson" she heard Mike say. She filed that information away to look up on John Watson later.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" she heard Sherlock say, meaning that he had deduced that John Watson fought in a war.

"Sorry?" Molly heard a new voice said, and even though she isn't a genius, she figured that this was John Watson.

"Which was it, in Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked.

"Afghanistan, sorry, how did you know?" Molly opened the door, and walked in. She stopped right next to John, he didn't look like much. He had a cane, wore boring clothes and looked like an ordinary bloke. What was Mike thinking?

"Ah!" Sherlock said, "Coffee, thank you. What happened to the lipstick?" Of course he would bloody notice.

"It wasn't working for me" said Molly.

"Really? It was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now" he walked away, sipping at the coffee. Molly left. But she stayed at the door, listening in.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Did that mean that Sherlock was considering having him as a flat mate?

"I'm sorry, what?" asked John, again Molly wondered what Mike was thinking, this poor bloke was going to bolt.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other" What the hell had Sherlock seen in John Watson that allowed him to be flat mates.

"You told him about me?" If only it were that easy.

"Not a word" said Mike, Molly thought he sounded smug. What was going on in there?

"Who said anything about flatmates?" John asked. Molly heard Sherlock gather his belongings so she thought she better return to the morgue.

She arrived just in time to begin checking the body that Sherlock attacked early on before the man himself walked.

He lifted his weapon, nodded to Molly and left again.

Mike arrived at least five minutes after Sherlock had left.

"Well?" he asked.

"Are you trying to get that poor man killed?" Molly asked, her hands on her hips.

"No, I'm doing that right thing" said Mike.

"Pray tell, what makes you think that John Watson is going to work?" asked Molly.

"He's an army doctor. He studied medicine at this very hospital before he joined the army. He was made into Captain of his fleet. He lives on action and doesn't cringe at the sight of dead bodies. I'm telling you that it will work."

Molly still didn't believe him.


	4. Mrs Hudson

Mrs Hudson glanced down at her phone, the one that her next door neighbour had to teach her to use, and frowned at the message from Mike.

THINK I'VE FOUND OUR MAN

She shook her head. She had a meeting with Sherlock tomorrow. She heard her phone bleep again. Glancing down she saw an unknown number. She opened the text.

BRINING SOMEONE WITH ME TOMORROW SH

She sighed again.

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Mrs Hudson heard people at the door, and she peeked through the peek hole and saw Sherlock with another man.

Sherlock was just climbing out the taxi and the man was the person who knocked on the door.

"Hello" said Sherlock, running up to the man.

"Ah – Mr. Holmes" said the man and they shook hands.

"Sherlock, please" said Sherlock. Mrs Hudson smiled.

"Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive" said the man, looking around. Mrs Hudson saw him lean on a cane. She blinked.

"Mrs. Hudson, the landlady - she's given me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out" Mrs Hudson smiled, remembering the look on her husbands face as his 'faithful' wife betrayed him.

"Sorry – you stopped her husband being executed?" asked the man. Mrs Hudson began to open the door.

"Oh, no, I ensured it" smirked Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" said Mrs Hudson as she swept the young man into a hug.

"Mrs. Hudson, Dr Watson" said Sherlock.

A doctor? thought Mrs Hudson, 'thank god, if he decides to move in, Doctor Watson can help her with any possible heart attacks she sure to have.

"Hello. Come in" said Mrs Hudson polietly and she stepped back to allow Doctor Watson to enter.

"Thank you" replied Doctor Watson as he struggled past her, Sherlock a step behind him.

She watched Sherlock go slowly up the stairs to allow Doctor Watson to keep up.

She heard the door open and walked up slowly, listening in.

"Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed" she heard Doctor Watson say.

"Yes. Yes, I think so, my thoughts precisely" agreed Sherlock. Then they both talked at the same time and Mrs Hudson couldn't understand them but Sherlock had started to clean up a bit. She walked in but stood by the door. Doctor Watson was still looking around as they talked. Then he saw it. Oh how Mrs Hudson hated having that in her house. But it was Sherlock's only friend.

"That's a skull" stated Doctor Watson as he pointed at the skull with his cane. Mrs Hudson shuddered.

"Friend of mine," said Sherlock, then he thought that over, "when I say friend..." Mrs Hudson decided to interrupt.

"What do you think, then, Dr Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms" she said, smirking on the inside.

"Of course we'll be needing two."

"Oh, don't worry," said Mrs Hudson, testing him, on what she was not sure, "there's all sorts round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones."

Then she saw the actual flat properly for the first time since Sherlock started to move in.

"Oh...Sherlock! The mess you've made" and she started to clean. Dr Watson took a seat.

"I looked you up on the internet last night" said Doctor Watson. Sherlock stopped what he was doing and looked at John.

"Anything interesting?" he asked. Mrs Hudson watched on in amusement. Why amusement, she wasn't sure.

"Found your website. The Science of Deduction." Mrs Hudson had seen that website, she hadn't understood most of it

"What did you think?" Sherlock asked, looking uncertain. It looked like he wanted Doctor Watson's approval.

Doctor Watson pulled a face. Sherlock looked insulted.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?" asked Doctor Watson.

"Yes," replied Sherlock, "And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits on your mobile phone."

'So Doctor Watson was in the military? And has an alcoholic brother' thought Mrs Hudson.

"How?" asked Doctor Watson. Mrs Hudson had already heard the speech and thought to stop it before she could hear it all over again.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same" she said, holding up a newspaper.

"Four," said Sherlock, looking out the window, "There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time."

"A fourth?" gasped Mrs Hudson. Greg ran through the door, and glanced at Doctor Watson.

"Where?" Sherlock asked. Doctor Watson was watching on in interest.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens" said the Inspector.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to me otherwise" said Sherlock.

"You know how they never leave notes?" said Greg. Sherlock nodded. "This one you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" asked Sherlock.

"Anderson." Sherlock pulled a face.

"He doesn't work well with me."

"Well, he won't be your assistant."

"I NEED an assistant." Mrs Hudson saw Sherlock's eyes dart to John before back to Greg.

"Will you come?" Greg asked again

"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind."

"Thank you." Once Greg had left, Sherlock started to celebrate.

"Brilliant! Yes! Four serial suicides, and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas. Mrs Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper" said Mrs Hudson.

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" Sherlock left. So John was his name. An ordinary name. Was was Mike so sure that this could work?

"Look at him, dashing about...My husband was just the same. But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell. I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg" said Mrs Hudson.

"Damn my leg!" yelled John, "Sorry, I'm so sorry - It's just sometimes this bloody thing..." and he whacked it with his cane. Mrs Hudson nodded in sympathy.

"I understand, dear, I've got a hip."

"Cup of tea'd be lovely. Thank you." said John, helping himself to the newspaper.

"Just this once, dear, I'm not your housekeeper" Mrs Hudson began to leave.

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got 'em."

"Not your housekeeper!"

Mrs Hudson saw Sherlock standing at the door, watching John but she headed downstairs to make the tea. She could hear a mumbled talking and then people running downstairs.

"Sorry Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out" she heard John call so she headed out her flat to see.

"Both of you?" she asked. She could see a new light in Sherlock's eyes.

"Impossible suicides? Four of them? No point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" cried Sherlock.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent" scolded Mrs Hudson.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!" and he left, taking John Watson with him.


	5. Anderson

Anderson was sitting at his desk when he received the text from Mike.  
>THINK I'VE FOUND OUR MAN.<br>It was an hour later that he received a text from Molly, who was sent to everyone but Mike, funnily enough.  
>MIKE'S AN IDIOT. THE MAN IS NORMAL, WALKS WITH A CANE.<br>Anderson growled, why was he involved. And started to write a text back when Sally ran in about another suicide victim.  
>"Did you receive the text from Mike?" asked Lestrade when he, Anderson and Sally were in the car on the way to the crime scene.<br>"About how he thinks he found someone?" asked Sally. Anderson nodded.  
>"Yeah, and the one from Molly saying that she believes him to be an idiot, seemingly the man walks with a cane" said Lestrade.<br>"How on Earth does Mike believe that to work with the Freak?" asked Sally. Nobody answered her, all wondering what Mike was on.

Anderson and Sally sat in the car while Greg ran up to Sherlock's new flat, Greg had kept his radio on so that they could everything being said.  
>"Four," They heard Sherlock say "There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time."<p>

They heard a woman gasp and as Greg entered the room to Sherlock.  
>"Where?" Sherlock asked.<br>"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens" said the Inspector.  
>"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to me otherwise" said Sherlock.<br>"You know how they never leave notes?" said Greg. Sherlock must've nodded. "This one did, you coming?"  
>"Who's on forensics?" asked Sherlock.<br>"Anderson." Anderson could imagine Sherlock pulling a face.  
>"He doesn't work well with me." Anderson snorted, that was an understatement.<br>"Well, he won't be your assistant."  
>"I NEED an assistant."<br>"Will you come?" Greg asked again, his voice sounded different.  
>"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind."<br>"Thank you."

Anderson and Sally saw Greg run out of 221B and into the car, he drove away.

"Well?" asked Sally.  
>"A man was there, he was sitting down and had a cane. And when Sherlock was talking about an assistant, his eyes drifted to the man"<p>

"So, was Mike right?" asked Anderson. There was a silence.

"I guess that we'll see. Do you think he'll bring him to the crime scene?" asked Sally.

"He wouldn't go that far surely?" asked Anderson.

They pulled up at the crime scene. Anderson headed inside with Greg to start looking at the body. Sally guarded the tape.

Greg and Anderson were looking over the body when Sally's voice came over Greg's radio.

"A taxi has pulled up with two passengers."

Greg and Anderson shared a look.


	6. Lestrade

Greg was getting a coffee (he really needed it) and was about to sit at his desk when he received the text from Mike.  
>THINK I'VE FOUND OUR MAN. Greg nodded as he placed the coffee down.<br>It was an hour later that he received a text from Molly, who was sent to everyone but Mike, funnily enough.  
>MIKE'S AN IDIOT. THE MAN IS NORMAL, WALKS WITH A CANE.<br>'What has that got to do with anything?' Wonder Greg as he put his phone back down only to be interrupted by a rookie cop telling him about another victim.  
>"Did you receive the text from Mike?" asked Lestrade when he, Anderson and Sally were in the car on the way to see Sherlock.<br>"About how he thinks he found someone?" asked Sally. Anderson nodded.  
>"Yeah, and the one from Molly saying that she believes him to be an idiot, seemingly the man walks with a cane" said Lestrade.<br>"How on Earth does Mike believe that to work with the Freak?" asked Sally. Nobody answered her, all wondering what Mike was on. Greg, however, was wondering what was wrong with having a cane - afterall nobody knew what this man could actually be capable off.

Anderson and Sally sat in the car while Greg ran up to Sherlock's new flat, Greg had kept his radio on so that they could everything being said.  
>"Four," Greg heard as he ran up the stairs and into the flat. "There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time."<p>

A woman gasped and Greg saw a man sitting down, and a woman standing off the side. Sherlock was standing at the window - having seen the police lights.  
>"Where?" Sherlock asked.<br>"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens" said the Inspector.  
>"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to me otherwise" said Sherlock.<br>"You know how they never leave notes?" said Greg. Sherlock nodded. "This one did, you coming?"  
>"Who's on forensics?" asked Sherlock.<br>"Anderson." Greg was glad that Sherlock didn't know that Anderson was listening - mind you, Sherlock probably would not have given a damn.  
>"He doesn't work well with me." Greg stared at Sherlock - they had this conversation many times.<br>"Well, he won't be your assistant."  
>"I NEED an assistant." Greg saw Sherlock's eyes drift over to the man, who stared at him with his head raised. A light appeared in Greg's eyes - it seemed like Mike was right.<br>"Will you come?" Greg asked again, his voice sounded different, even to himself.  
>"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind."<br>"Thank you."

Greg ran out of 221B and into the car, quickly, he drove away.

"Well?" asked Sally.  
>"A man was there, he was sitting down and had a cane. And when Sherlock was talking about an assistant, his eyes drifted to the man"<p>

"So, was Mike right?" asked Anderson. There was a silence.

"I guess that we'll see. Do you think he'll bring him to the crime scene?" asked Sally.

"He wouldn't go that far surely?" asked Anderson.

They pulled up at the crime scene. Anderson headed inside with Greg to start looking at the body. Sally guarded the tape.

"A taxi has pulled up with two passengers."

Sally kept her walkie talkie on, so that they could hear everything over Lestrade's walkie talkie.

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" they heard a voice they had never heard before say.

"Sister!" Sherlock yelled.

"No - seriously, what am I doing here?" said the man.

"There's always something" they heard Sherlock answer.

"Hello, freak!" they heard Sally say.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Why?"

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look."

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?"

"Always Sally. I even know you didn't make it home last night."

"I don't... Who's this?" She had finally given up.

"Colleague of mine, Dr Watson. Dr Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan."

"A colleague" said Sally, "how do YOU get a colleague? Did he follow you home?"

Good Sally, she was covering up that they knew. Anderson nodded to Lestrade and made his way out.

"Would it be better if I just waited..." Lestrade heard Doctor Watson mutter.

"No" said Sherlock.

"Freak's here. Bringing him in" said Sally into the walkie talkie and she switched it off.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again" this time Greg heard this right outside. He shut his walkie talkie off and put it back into his pocket. He headed into the room where he could get suited up.

Pretty soon, Sherlock ran through into the room where Greg was waiting and on his heels was Doctor Watson.

"Who's this?" Greg asked.

"He's with me" answered Sherlock.

"But who is he?"

"I said, he's with me."


	7. Sally

Sally was making herself a cup of coffee, she really needed it. This case was taking a lot out of her.

Her phone beeped.

THINK I'VE FOUND OUR MAN had been sent from Mike. Sally shook her head. She had completely forgot all about that.

She took her coffee back to her desk and started on some reports concerning that past two bodies. An hour in her phone beeped again, this time the massage was from Molly.

MIKE'S AN IDIOT. THE MAN IS NORMAL, WALKS WITH A CANE

Sally rolled her eyes again, and was about to return to her reports when she got a phone call. She answered, then ran to get Anderson and sent a rookie to get Greg.

There was another body.

"Did you receive the text from Mike?" asked Lestrade when he, Anderson and Sally were in the car on the way to the crime scene.  
>"About how he thinks he found someone?" asked Sally. Anderson nodded in reply.<br>"Yeah, and the one from Molly saying that she believes him to be an idiot, seemingly the man walks with a cane" said Lestrade as he kept his eyes on the road.  
>"How on Earth does Mike believe that to work with the Freak?" asked Sally. Nobody answered her, all wondering what Mike was on. Sally herself what made Mike think that this man would be a good idea.<p>

Anderson and Sally sat in the car while Greg ran up to Sherlock's new flat, Greg had kept his radio on so that they could everything being said.  
>"Four," They heard Sherlock say "There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time."<p>

They heard a woman gasp as Greg entered the room to Sherlock.  
>"Where?" Sherlock asked.<br>"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens" said the Inspector.  
>"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to me otherwise" said Sherlock.<br>"You know how they never leave notes?" said Greg. Sherlock must've nodded. "This one did, you coming?"  
>"Who's on forensics?" asked Sherlock.<br>"Anderson." Anderson could imagine Sherlock pulling a face.  
>"He doesn't work well with me." Anderson snorted, that was an understatement.<br>"Well, he won't be your assistant."  
>"I NEED an assistant."<br>"Will you come?" Greg asked again, his voice sounded different.  
>"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind."<br>"Thank you."

Anderson and Sally saw Greg run out of 221B and into the car, he drove away.

"Well?" asked Sally, Greg looked a little confused and deep in thought.  
>"A man was there, he was sitting down and had a cane. And when Sherlock was talking about an assistant, his eyes drifted to the man"<p>

"So, was Mike right?" asked Anderson. There was a silence.

"I guess that we'll see. Do you think he'll bring him to the crime scene?" asked Sally.

"He wouldn't go that far surely?" asked Anderson.

They pulled up at the crime scene. Anderson headed inside with Greg to start looking at the body. Sally guarded the tape.

Sally kept an eye out for a taxi. One pulled up, and Sherlock climbed in. Sally could see the silhouette of another man in the car. She lifted her radio to her mouth.

"A taxi has pulled up with two passengers" she said before she pocketed her radio and put on a show.

Sally watched the two men walk their way over to her, Sherlock was walking a lot slower so that the man could keep up.

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" Sally heard the mysterious voice say as they got closer.

"Sister!" Sherlock yelled.

"No - seriously, what am I doing here?" said the man.

"There's always something" she heard Sherlock say as he and the man pulled up at the tape.

"Hello, freak!" said Sally, holding the tape down.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade" said Sherlock, as he looked around.

"Why?"

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look."

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?"

"Always Sally. I even know you didn't make it home last night."

"I don't... Who's this?" She had finally given up. And she really wanted to know the name of the man.

"Colleague of mine, Dr Watson. Dr Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan."

"A colleague" said Sally, "how do YOU get a colleague? Did he follow you home?"

Sally nodded to herself, glad that she did take Drama in University.

"Would it be better if I just waited..." Doctor Watson muttered.

"No" said Sherlock. He held up the tape and allowed Doctor Watson to walk underneath it.

"Freak's here. Bringing him in" said Sally into the walkie talkie and she switched it off. She lead them to the crime scene and ran into Anderson coming out the house.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again" said Sherlock when he saw Anderson.

"It's a crime scene" said Anderson, taking off his gloves, "I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

"Quite clear" said Sherlock, "and is your wife away for long?"

"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that" moaned Anderson.

"Your deodorant told me that" smirked Sherlock.

"My deodorant?" asked Anderson. Sally shook her head.

"It's for men" smiled Sherlock.

"Well, of course it's for men - I'm wearing it" argued Anderson.

"So's Sergeant Donovan. Ooh... I think it just vaporised. May I go in?" said Sherlock as he began to make his way into the crime scene.

"Whatever you're trying to imply..." threatened Anderson. Sherlock turned around.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees" and Sherlock and Doctor Watson walked into the house which held the crime scene.


	8. Mycroft

Mycroft was sitting at his dinning table, his parents sat across him. It was quiet at the table, part of the light tinkling of culterly hitting each other and the plate. A noise erupted into the air and the men looked up as Mrs Holmes pulled out her mobile. She apologized and went to switch it off until her husbands went off, followed by Mycroft. They frowned at one another before looking at their text messages.

THINK I'VE FOUND OUR MAN was from Mike Stamford. Mycroft shook his head, Mike was the kind of man who only knew Doctors, so he would more than likely introduce Sherlock to a stuck up Doctor who believed that he could save everyone and anyone.

Another text came in, this time from Molly. MIKE'S AN IDIOT. THE MAN IS NORMAL. WALKS WITH A CANE.

That spiked Mycroft's interest. There were no doctors who worked at Barts Hospital who needed a cane. Sharing a look with his parents, Mycroft dialled Molly's number and put his mobile onto speaker phone.

"Hello" came Molly's voice as Mycroft lowered his phone onto the table. His dinner, for once, lay forgotten.

"Hello Molly, it's Mycroft. I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about the man Mike took to see my brother" said Mycroft polietly.

"Okay, erm, Sherlock said he was from a war zone. That his name is John Watson. Oh, and Sherlock told John Watson all his habits as if he were considering having him living at Baker Street. I don't what is so important about this man. He just seemed plain to me" said Molly. Mycroft looked at his parents and saw that they were also confused. Sherlock seemed actually intrested in John Watson.

Anthea, who was actually in the room at the time, had began to search their personal databases for the name of John Watson.

"I have located a Doctor John Watson who was invalided home a few months ago" informed Anthea, "we have a video file of his many therapist sessions."

"Get the newest up on my computer" ordered Mycroft. The four of them went to Mycroft's study. Mycroft sat at his desk, opened his laptop, loaded the file and watched, his parents leaning over him to be able to see the screen.

They watch as the therapist welcomes what seems to be a perfectly ordinary bloke. Bland jumpers jeans and a cane.

They watched as the duo sat in an awkward silence for the first fifty minutes, this therapist seems to believe that the patient needs to be the one to start the discussion. The man coughed and it seems that the therapist took that are permission to talk. She leaned forward.

"How's your blog going?" she asked. John Watson coughed again and looked down.

"Yeah, good, very good" he lied

"You haven't written a word, have you?" asked the therapist and she noted something down.

"You just wrote "still has trust issues"" said John.

"And you read my writing upside down. You see what I mean? John, you're a soldier and it's going to take you a while to adjust to civilian life and writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you" stressed the therapist. John sighed.

"Nothing happens to me" said John and he got up and limped out the office. The therapist sighed and lowered her head.

"Are you sure that was him?" asked Mrs Holmes

"He fit Molly's description" answer Mycroft.

His parents went back to their dinner and had some quality time in their room until Mycroft called for them. Mycroft's assitant had set the tele up like an computer, she was loading a file.

Mycroft was sitting in a chair facing the tv, his parent sat down beside him.

"What's going on?" asked Mrs Holmes, glancing around.

"Anthea found a video of the man with Sherlock. She said we had to see it" Mycroft informed them.

The video came to live on the screen and the Holmes' stared at the youngest of them as he sat in the back of the taxi with the man from the therapist video.

They both were glancing at each other.

"OK, You've got questions..." said Sherlock. He glanced out the window and straight back at John.

"Yeah, where are we going?" asked John.

"Crime scene. Next?" answered Sherlock.

"Who are you, what do you do?" asked John.

"What do you think?" Sherlock looked John right in the eyes.

"I'd say...private detective" muttered John, unsure.

"But?"

"But the police don't go to private detectives."

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world, I invented the job" Mrs Holmes smiled, Sherlock always said he was going to be a consulting detective.

"What does that mean?" asked John.

"Means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me" Sherlock told John.

"The police don't consult amateurs." Mycroft snorted. 'Sherlock won't like that.'

"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said Afghanistan or Iraq. You looked surprised."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I didn't know, I saw. 'Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. 'But your conversation...' Bit different from my day...said trained at Barts - so Army doctor, obvious. 'Your face is tanned... 'but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. 'Your limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand - 'so it's at least partly psychosomatic. 'That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic -' wounded in action then. Wounded in action, suntan - Afghanistan or Iraq." The Holmes' watching gulped. Sherlock may have just lost them another possible friend.

"You said I had a therapist" said John. Mrs and Mr Holmes said a look. Did John really just invite Sherlock to keep going?

"You've got a psychosomatic limp, of course you've got a therapist. Then there's your brother." "

"Mm?"

"Your phone. 'It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player.' And you're looking for a flatshare. You wouldn't buy this - it's a gift. 'Scratches. Not one, many over time -' it's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. You wouldn't treat your one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already."

"The engraving?"

"Harry Watson. Clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live - unlikely you've got an extended family, not one you're close to. So brother it is. Now, who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must have given it to him recently, it's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then - six months on he's given it away. If she'd left HIM, he would have kept it. Sentiment. No, he wanted rid of it. He left HER. He gave the phone to you, so he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help - that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, or don't like his drinking."

"How can you possibly know about the drinking?"

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection - tiny little scuff marks round it. Every night he plugs it in but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you go, you were right."

"I was right? Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs."

"That...was" began John, staring at Sherlock. Mycroft flinched, knowing what was about to happen.

"...amazing."

Their unknown audience stared in shock. Was Mike right? Was this the man?

"Do you think so?"

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary, it was quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off!"

The two men shared a smile and Anthea paused the video.

"Did we really just see Sherlock smile?" asked Mrs Holmes. Mr Holmes slowly smiled.

"Anthea, keep an eye on him. Find somewhere were I could officially meet my brother's new ... friend."


	9. Lestrade 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock _

**Finding A Friend **

**9) Lestrade**

Lestrade led the way upstairs, the two men following right behind him.

"I can give you two minutes" he said as he opened the door.

"May need longer" replied Sherlock as he walked in, John limped behind him.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson," said Lestrade, glancing down at his notes, "according to her credit cards, we're running them for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her."

There was a silence as they all stared at the body.

"Shut up" ordered Sherlock, looking at Greg.

"I didn't say anything" argued Greg, glancing back at John.

"You were thinking," answered Sherlock, "it's annoying." Lestrade sighed.

"Got anything?" he asked with his arms crossed.

"Not much" answered Sherlock, pulling his phone out.

"She's German" said Anderson from the door, "Rache. It's German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something..." And the door was slammed in his face.

"Yes, thank you for your input" answered Sherlock as he turned back to the door.

"So she's German?" asked Lestrade, looking from the door to Sherlock, glancing to John.

"Of course she's not" sighed Sherlock, "she's from out of town though. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff. So far, so obvious."

"Sorry" asked John, "obvious?" Lestrade frowned. John was about to get his head bitten off. Sherlock hated it when people asked him questions when he was deducing. So Lestrade tried to cover him.

"What about the message though?" Lestrade was ignored in favour of Doctor Watson, which was a first.

"Dr Watson, what do you think?"

"Of the message?" It was nice that someone was listening to Lestrade.

"Of the body" said Sherlock, "you're a medical man."

"We have a whole team right outside" Lestrade pointed to the closed door.

"They won't work with me" replied Sherlock. He was looking at John when he said this though.

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here" began Lestrade but Sherlock interrupted him.

"Yes" Sherlock said, "because you need me."

"Yes" sighed Lestrade as he glanced at John again, "I do. God help me."

"Dr Watson!" snapped Sherlock, Dr Watson looked right at him and hummed, then he looked at Greg, asking permission.

"Oh, do as he says" Greg answered the silent question, "help yourself. Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes..." Greg closed the door on the two men talking over the dead body and was approached by Anderson and Sally.

"What do you think of him then?" asked Sally.

"He seems like an normal bloke, but Sherlock kept asking him questions and asking him to do stuff. Dr Watson would also do it, but he looked at me before he would look at the body" answered Greg.

"Do you think Mike could've been right. Out of all us, two detective, a CSI, the Government and his parents, it was a professor who managed it?" asked Anderson.

"Okay, go back to your stations, I better head back in" said Greg as he opened the door and entered.

Dr Watson just finished saying something and was slowly backing away from the body .

"Sherlock" said Greg, "two minutes I said, I need anything you got."

"Victim is in her late 30s. Professional person, going by her clothes - I'm guessing the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Traveled from Cardiff today intending to stay in London one night from the size of her suitcase" Sherlock started to say.

"Suitcase?" asked Greg, confused.

"Yes" sighed Sherlock before he started again, "she's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."

"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up..." began Greg. Sherlock interrupted.

"Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. The inside is shinier than the outside. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands so who DOES she remove her rings for? Not ONE lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single for that long so more likely a string of them."

"Brilliant" complemented Dr Watson but Greg and Sherlock looked at him, "sorry."

"Cardiff?" asked Greg. Sherlock looked at him.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he asked.

"Not to me" replied Dr Watson. Sherlock looked from him to Greg.

"Dear God" he said, "what is it like in your funny little brains, it must be so boring. Her coat - it's slightly damp, she's been in heavy rain the last few hours - no rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her pocket but it's dry and unused. Not just wind, strong wind - too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight but she can't have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So - where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff." and

"Fantastic" whispered Dr Watson. Sherlock leaned into his face and whispered to him. Greg, however, was able to hear it.

"Do you know you do that out loud?" Sherlock asked.

"Sorry, I'll shut up."

"No, it's...fine."

Sherlock was enjoying getting compliments. When he started, Greg would compliment Sherlock and Sherlock would tell him to stop it, as it was distracting, and why would you say things like that when the first time I deduced you, you insulted me before getting your knees and begging me for help.

So Dr Watson didn't insult him? Anyway, Greg really didn't want to break a moment between the two men, but he did have a murder to solve.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" asked Greg, causing both men t o look at him.

"Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is" Sherlock started to glance around the room.

"She was writing Rachel?" asked Greg.

"No" snapped Sherlock, "she was leaving an angry note in German - of course she was writing Rachel, no other word it can be. Why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"How do you know she had a suitcase?" Greg asked.

"Tiny splash marks on her right heel and calf not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand, by that splash pattern. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious - could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying one night. Where is it, what have you done with it?" Sherlock looked at Greg.

"There wasn't a case" replied Greg. Sherlock's eyes widened. He went right into Greg's face.

"Say that again" he whispered.

"There wasn't a case" replied Greg, "there was never any suitcase." Sherlock ran from the room, Dr Watson and Greg after him.

"Suitcase!" Sherlock yelled throughout the house, "did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

"There was no case!" Greg yelled after him. Sherlock turned to face him.

"But they take the poison themselves, swallow the pills. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them."

"Right, thanks" said Greg, insulted, "and...?"

"It's murder, all of them. I don't know how. But they're not suicides, they're serial killings. We've got a serial killer. There's always something to look forward to" and Sherlock began to ran down the stairs.

"Why are you saying that?" Greg looked over the banister, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dr Watson do the same.

"Her case!" Sherlock yelled up the stairs, "come on, where is her case? Did she eat it(?) Someone else was here, and they took her case. So the killer must have driven here. Forgot the case was in the car."

"She could have checked into a hotel, left it there" supplied Dr Watson.

"No" argued Sherlock, "look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking... Oh... Oh!" Sherlock jumped up and down as he realized something.

"Sherlock?" called Greg, "what is it, what?"

"Serial killers, always hard" Sherlock smirked, "you have to wait for them to make a mistake."

"We can't just wait!" yelled Greg.

"Oh, we're done waiting" cheered Sherlock, "look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff. Find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" Sherlock ran further down the stairs and made to leave.

"Of course, yeah - but what mistake?!" Greg leaned a little further over the banister.

"Pink!"

Greg didn't even see Dr Watson leave, only saw him talking to Sally when he went outside to get her to come inside.


	10. Sally 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock

**Finding A Friend**

**Sally**

Sally watched as John Watson left the crime scene and looked around him.

"He's gone" said Sally as she approached the man.

"Who? Sherlock Holmes?" asked John, still looking around.

"Yeah, he just took off. He does that."

"Is he coming back?" Sally could've laughed. She could've said anything to chase this man away. But if there was chance that the Freak didn't have to alone. She didn't want the blame for chasing that chance away.

"Didn't look like it" she admitted. John nodded and thought to himself.

"Right" he muttered, "right...Yes. Sorry, where am I?" He looked at her.

"Brixton."

"Do you know where I could get a cab?" asked John.

"The main road, I think" said Sally.

"Thanks" and he started to limp away. Sally suddenly felt pity for the man.

"But you're not his friend" she said before she could stop herself. John looked back at her.

"He doesn't have friends" she finished, "who are you?"

Sally found that she actually really wanted to know. Who was this man that people believed would make the Freak a better person? Who was this person who could play a bigger part in all their futures?

"I'm..." John thought for moment, "I'm nobody."

"Ok, bit of advice then. Stay away from that guy.."

"Why?" John asked.

"You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what...? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing round a body and he'll be the one that put it there."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a psychopath. Psychopaths get bored."

This was the real test. Would he leave Sherlock because of second hand knowledge, very little more than a jealous opinion?

"Donovan!" she heard Greg yell for her.

"Coming. Stay away from Sherlock Holmes." And with one last look at John, she walked away to stand beside Greg and Anderson, and the three of them watched as John disappeared from sight.

"I just told him what I thought of Sherlock. Let's see if he stays then" and Sally walked back into the crime scene.


End file.
